


Iron Hills

by kalirush



Series: Black Sky AU [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Awkward Romance, F/M, Not Knowing What You Want To Do With Your Life, Spacewalk, Unfortunate Humor Involving a Severed Leg, soul searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalirush/pseuds/kalirush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed has to figure out what he wants to do with his life. Winry has to figure out where she fits. Sci-fi AU, Black Sky 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Hills

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evil_Little_Dog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/gifts).



It took awhile to do the intake for Al. His military connections had to be verified, and he had to fill all the forms in again. And then Ellen wheeled him off to his room, and Winry and Ed were left staring at each other. 

She punched his arm. “Why didn’t you write me?” she asked.

“Ow!” he complained. “I did write.”

She glared at him skeptically.

“I just...” he shrugged. “I didn’t have anything to write about.” 

“Are you mad that I didn’t take your money?” she asked, bluntly.

“What?” he said, his head snapping up. “No.”

She frowned, her face wrinkling up. “Then what?” she said. “What’s going on with you, Ed?”

He pushed away from the exam room table, looking sideways. “I don’t know,” he ground out.

“Okay,” Winry said, still looking at him.

He nodded, his face tense and controlled. “Now what,” he said flatly. He shook his head. “I don’t know Resembool anymore. The military can go to hell. So... so what? What?” His hands clenched into fists at his side.

Winry stepped closer. “Ed...” she started.

“You have Chiron,” he said, not meeting her eyes. He turned, looking toward the window in the door. “Al wants to go to school on Myrmidon,” he said. “They have a psi studies program.”

“And you’re not sure what _you’re_ going to do,” Winry said, carefully. She moved into his personal space, leaning against the wall next to him.

He shrugged. He looked down, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “I got him back safe,” he said, softly.

She nodded, leaning into him. “It’s okay,” she said. “To not know what you’re doing. When did you sign up for the military? Fourteen? You’re only twenty-four, Ed. You don’t have to have it all figured out.”

“I was only ever good at one thing,” he said, almost a whisper. “And I won’t build weapons anymore, not after-” He shook his head, still not looking at her. “So what do I do?”

She looked up at him, thinking about the first time she’d met him. He’d been so sick, but he’d burned with determination. She’d always known he’d accomplish what he set out to do- do it or die in the attempt. Now he just looked lost. 

She thumped him gently on the head. 

“What was that for?” he asked, rubbing his head.

“Self pity,” she told him. 

He let out a short, barking breath. “You’re such a drill sergeant,” he complained. 

“You’re not the only one, you know,” she said. “There are a lot of veterans who feel this way after they’re injured, especially if they have to muster out.”

He looked at her sideways. “My arm and leg got better a long time ago,” he said.

“But it’s been barely a year since you found Al,” she pointed out. “That’s when your war ended. It’s hard to go back to normal life.” 

He shrugged, and wouldn’t look at her. 

“Okay,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Up on the table. I’d better have a look at how you’ve been mistreating my work since I left.”

He relaxed a little. “You just want to get my shirt off,” he grumbled under his breath.

“I heard that,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

\----------------------

“This is going to hurt,” Winry warned him. “A lot. It’s okay to scream, if you have to. You just have to get through this, okay?”

Alphonse nodded. “Brother told me about it.” He grimaced. 

She reached for her tools. “We can talk while I work,” she said. “It helps, usually.”

“I don’t know if I have a high pain tolerance or a low one,” Al said, nervously. “I’ve had pain before. But I guess I’m frightened of it now.”

“I’m sorry I can’t give you a sedative,” Winry said. “But I promise I’ll be as quick as I can.” She reached for a syringe, trying to think of a subject that might take Al’s mind off the procedure. “When did you learn to bake bread?” she asked.

“Mom,” Al said, and smiled sadly. “I was mostly with her before she died. Ed was off with the military and I didn’t want her to be alone. When she was feeling well enough, we’d cook together. And then it would all go into the storage so I could feed us when she was worse. I learned to cook on my own, too, but it was easier to warm something up.”

“I didn’t realize you were on your own like that,” Winry said. 

Al shrugged. “Brother was never any good with her. She was sick all the time, and he just felt so useless. He’d get angry- not at her, but at everyone else.”

She sighed. “That’s his problem now, too.”

Al let out a short huff of laughter. “Part of it, I think.”

“Have you figured him out, then?” she asked. “I wish you’d share your secrets with me.”

Al smiled weakly, not looking at what she was doing to his leg. “It’s partly that he doesn’t know what he wants to do. It’s also partly that he wants something and he won’t admit it to himself.”

“Really?” She frowned. “Ed’s never wanted _anything_ for himself, as far as I’ve ever heard. What do you think it is?”

Al snorted, and shook his head. “You figure that out on your own, Winry Rockbell.”

Winry smiled. “You sound like my Granny,” she told him. 

“Ed mentioned her,” Al said, closing his eyes, his face pale and drawn. “She sounded like an interesting lady.”

\-------------------

Winry looked around in disbelief. “What is this?”

“A goodbye party,” Al said, serenely, from his wheelchair. 

“For who?” she asked. “You’ve got months of therapy still.”

“For his leg,” Ed told her, rolling his eyes.

“For my leg!” Al repeated, cheerily. He pointed at the table.

Winry covered her face with a hand. “Is that your leg?” she asked. “Why isn’t it in biohaz?”

“It’s in a biohaz bag,” Al pointed out.

“Er,” Kain said. “I may have mentioned that it was still in freeze, waiting to be burned.”

“Hence the goodbye party!” Paninya grinned. “Now you’re half as badass as me, Al.”

Winry just stared. “The booze is in that direction,” Ed murmured. “C’mon. I need another drink, too.”

The booze in question was re-distilled medical ethanol, diluted with juice so that it wouldn’t give anyone alcohol poisoning. “I hope no one’s letting Al drink this,” she said, choking down a mouthful.

“Ellen let him have a few sips,” Ed told her. “But he’s back on straight juice last I checked.”

“I should probably do something about this,” she said, looking at the cloudy liquid in her glass. “I’m supposed to be an authority figure around here.”

Ed shrugged. Winry watched him for a moment. The months on Resembool had been kind to him, even if he had struggled. He looked tan, not so sharp. Softer around the edges. His hair was shaggy, hanging down into his eyes, and he looked comfortable in civilian clothes.

He took a long sip of his drink. “God, that’s foul.” He grimaced. “I haven’t had anything so bad since I was aboard ship.”

“You didn’t mention _that_ in your letters,” she said.

He grinned. “Knox had an illegal distillery setup with one of the guys from Engineering. Then they’d parcel it out to the crew for mess credits.”

“I had letters from Knox a couple of times, but I never suspected him of liquor running.” She sniffed at her glass. “Do you know what he’s doing now?”

“He went home,” Ed said, tilting his head to one side. “He had a wife and kid. He’d lost them in the war- I guess they were colonists or something, and the Arthroids hit them and then they were refugees. But after it was all over, his kid found him again, and I guess he decided he was done with the military. More power to him, too.”

“Are you still in touch with the rest of your squad?” she asked, curious.

He shrugged. “I hear from Hawkeye now and again. She and the bastard both got promoted, apparently.”

She cautiously sipped at her drink, holding her breath against the smell of ethanol. “Do you ever miss them?” she asked, carefully. “I remember your letters. You used to tell me about- oh, Havoc, and Breda and Armstrong and the rest.”

Ed paused, and then downed the last of his drink. “Do I miss the bastard?” He stared at his empty cup. “I don’t miss being military,” he said, slowly. “I don’t miss the brass. I really don’t miss... what they asked us to make. What they ordered me to do.” He stared into the distance. “I guess... I miss having a purpose. And Mustang was an okay commander. Sort of.” He shook his head. “Do you know he wants me to join back up?”

“Do you want to?” she asked.

“That idiot,” he said, scowling. “He thinks he can change the world.” He shook his head again. “I won’t ever let myself be in a situation where someone can order me to kill,” he said, his voice gone to steel. “Not again.”

“You could work with him as a consultant,” she pointed out. “Or go to school with Al.”

He laughed. “Do you know how old I was when I stopped going to school? I didn’t even graduate. They wouldn’t accept me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you Edward Elric?” she asked. “The man who fought his way through a year of PT in three months? Since when do you give up?”

Ed snorted. “Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “You are such a hardass.”

She punched his shoulder- the flesh one. “Only when I have to be,” she said. 

“Jeez,” he complained, rubbing his arm.

“Go to school,” she told him. “Or work with Mustang. Or do something else. Just get up on that leg I gave you and walk forward, okay?” She reached out and twitched Ed’s bangs away from his eyes. “You can do whatever you want, Ed.”

He pulled away. “You really believe in me,” he said, making it half a question.

“You brought down a government,” she said. “You brought him _home_ , Ed. I believe you can do anything you set out to do.”

He let out a breath. “Shit,” he said, and when he looked up his gold eyes were burning. “Well, I better not disappoint you.”

“You better not,” she told him. 

“Brother! Winry!” Al called. “We’re about to throw my leg in the incinerator! Get over here and sing with us!”

“What are we singing?” Winry asked, vaguely horrified. 

“Fuck if I know,” Ed said. “Come on.”

\-----------------------------------

Winry cracked her eyes open, blearily looking around for the source of the noise. It wasn’t her pager (And was she on call anyway? She wasn’t.). Finally, it percolated through her consciousness that it was her door chime. She hadn’t recognized it because no one ever used it. If someone wanted her, they called her comm, or paged her, or damn well waited until breakfast.

She lurched toward the door. “What?” she growled, hitting the comm button.

“It’s me,” said Ed’s muffled voice, through the door. 

“Ed,” she sighed, hitting the controls to slide the door open. “Are you okay?”

“What?” he asked, clearly confused. He was fully dressed- old blue uniform pants with the stripes removed, and a tight black shirt that showed off his ridiculously muscled torso. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

She punched his shoulder half-heartedly, narrowing her eyes. “Because it’s 0600 hours, you ass! What are you doing here? Today was my day to sleep in.”

He blinked. “I brought coffee?” he offered, holding out two cups.

“Those are both for me,” she growled and then plucked them out of his hands.

He followed her into her dining ‘cove, where she sunk down into one of the chairs. “I _brought_ the coffee,” he pointed out plaintively. He was evidently too smart to outright argue with her, though.

She took a long sip from the left-hand cup, and changed her mind. “Ugh! Fine, you can have yours back. At least I _hope_ that’s yours. How much sugar do you put in, Ed?”

“The brain needs glucose to function,” he said, defensively.

“Nothing needs that much glucose,” she said, making a face. The other cup, blessedly, was unsweetened. Just a little milk, exactly the way she liked it. “Okay. Now, I repeat my question. What are you doing here?”

Ed shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I knew it was your day off,” he said. “Fuery told me. I guess I didn’t think that you might want to sleep in.” Of course. Because while Ed might nap at any slight provocation, he’d been on a military schedule for so long that he still woke up at 0600 every morning.

She glared at him. “I’m going to shower. You wait here.”

By the time she was out and dressed, he had actually managed to assemble an odd breakfast of toast, protein paste and jellied vegetables. She stared at it. “I usually go to the mess for breakfast.”

“I can tell,” he said, pushing the plate towards her across the table. “Where did you get the vegetables? They’re pretty good.”

“Granny,” she told him. She sat down and picked up her toast. “I’m surprised she didn’t send you off with any when you visited.”

He shrugged. “I’m military,” he said. “Or was, then.” He looked down at his stripped-down pants. “I’m not anymore, huh.”

“She’d probably like you better now, yeah,” Winry said. “You know, that’s an idea. If you wanted to learn about prosthetics engineering, there’s no better place than Rush Station. Granny has plenty of room; you could stay with her.”

Ed laughed. “Prosthetics?”

She scowled at him. “Yes, prosthetics. Aren’t you supposed to be some genius engineer? And neural prosthetics are about as far as you can get from weapons.”

“Says the genius prosthetics engineer,” he scoffed. “You just want me to be as big a nerd for them as you are.”

She rolled her eyes. “You should be glad I’m such a huge nerd,” she said. “You like walking, don’t you?”

He just grinned, and popped a jellied carrot in his mouth.

“So, what did you have in mind for today?” she asked.

“Eat all your breakfast and you’ll find out,” he told her, smugly. “It might involve walking.”

An hour later, she was stepping cautiously onto the surface of Chiron’s dome. “Are you sure this is safe?” she asked, nervously. 

He laughed, tinny over the comms. “I thought you were a station brat,” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be a born spacer?”

“Stationers don’t walk _on top_ of their domes, Ed. Stationers stay inside where there’s oxygen!” She took another step, nervously checking her tether.

“They are designed for this, you know,” Ed said. “Maintenance comes up here all the time.”

“Are you sure we’re authorized?” she asked.

He snorted. “Come _on_ , worry wart. We have to hurry.”

“What for?” she asked. “What for, Ed?”

He just beckoned her to follow, and she had to scramble to keep up. The surface of the dome was pitted and scarred, victim of thirty years of micrometeroid strikes. Chiron’s defense systems dealt with anything over a certain size, but there was a perpetual flood of dust and pebbles that was impossible to avoid. Her boots were magnetized, but it was still slippery and uneven, and she had to watch her step. Ed was maddeningly quick, turning back only occasionally to check on her. She could just catch a glimpse of him grinning through his face-shield. 

At long last, he stopped. “What do you think?” he said. 

“Of what?” she asked, scrambling up the dome.

He turned and offered her a hand. She pulled herself up with it, settling in next to him. “We just made it,” he said. “Watch this.”

“Watch what?” she asked, looking at him.

He pointed. “Desdemona,” he said, pointing at the planet that Chiron was in loose orbit around. “There!” he said, excited. 

And as they watched, the sun rose around the planet, a nimbus of red and yellow flame over the broad, purplish curve of Desdemona. As the light broke outward, the asteroids caught fire, molten in the sun’s onslaught. “It’s beautiful,” she said, her mouth dry. 

“I know,” he said, softly. “I wanted you to see it.”

She suddenly realized that she was still holding his hand. 

\---------------------------------

Al twirled around, holding his arms out. “What do you think?” he asked.

“Very pretty,” Ed said, rolling his eyes. 

Winry punched his shoulder. “Don’t listen to him, Al. You look great.”

“I know,” Al said, smugly. “Brother wouldn’t know fashion if it hit him in the face.” Al was wearing a collared tunic in blue and gold, belted and paired with the form-fitting pants that were popular among students these days. The gold accents paired nicely with his eyes and hair. He was still lean, but he’d filled out considerably since Ed had rescued him. The results were hard to argue with.

“Ha ha,” Ed said. “All the girls will swoon when you show up on Myrmidon, I’m sure.”

Al lit up. “Do you think so?” he said, hopefully.

Winry laughed. “You’re a handsome young man, Al. _I’d_ go out with you.”

“Hey-” Ed protested, frowning.

“What, you think I’m not good enough for your little brother?” Winry asked, grinning.

“No, I-” Ed scowled.

“Great! You can start practicing your speech for our wedding.” Al grinned. 

Ed’s face turned red. Winry just laughed. “You better not have that reaction when he actually starts dating,” she warned him.

“It won’t matter,” Al said. “I’ll be on Myrmidon, and he’ll be off flying around in ships with General Mustang.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “I hate you both,” he said.

Winry laughed. “The ship’ll be here any minute,” she said. “Best go get your jump bag.”

“Mine’s ready,” Ed said, patting his shoulder. 

“What do you think, Brother?” Al said, pulling his bag out of the closet. He’d painted it with a cross-and-snake, to matched the faded design on Ed’s old military jump bag. 

Ed grinned. “Badass,” he said. 

They turned out the lights in their quarters, and shut the lights for the last time. They’d be recoded by tonight, and then this particular door wouldn’t be a place Winry could find friends anymore.

They walked out to the launch bay where the supply transport was waiting to take them to Hub Alpha. 

Al hugged her. “Thanks for everything, Winry,” he said, shyly.

“You better write me!” she told him. “And not Ed letters either.”

“I will!” he promised, grinning. He punched Ed’s arm. “I’m going to go get settled, Brother.”

And then she was alone with Ed. He shifted his jump bag on his shoulder uncomfortably. “I-” he started, and then closed his mouth. “Winry-”

She bit her lip. “You better not show up here without sending me notice first,” she said. “ _Again_. And you better write me, or I’ll tell Al on you. And you _better_ not get my beautiful prosthetics shot off, do you hear me?”

He laughed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. He turned to the ship, and then turned back. “Winry,” he said. “I-” he stopped again. “I-” He screwed up his face. “I like Chiron okay,” he said, finally. “But I’d like anywhere you are. And I don’t mean to stay with Mustang forever.”

She felt her face growing warm. “Do you- I mean-” she stuttered. “I mean, don’t stop shy of fixing the government on my account.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to be a politician,” he said. “And I don’t want to be in the military, even as a civilian advisor. So. I guess you won’t get rid of me.”

She laughed. “Okay,” she said. “That’s okay.”

He nodded, and she thought his face looked a little pink. Then he reached out and pulled her to him, holding her for a long moment, his face buried in her hair. “Yeah,” he said, finally. “Okay.” He turned and started walking up the gangplank. Just before he disappeared into the ship, he looked over his shoulder and waved. “See you around, Winry!”

She smiled. “See you around, Ed!”

She stood in the observation deck, her arms wrapped around herself, until the ship was completely gone.

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of this story was written long-hand. I've been sick for months (no one still has any clue why), and I've had little to no energy to write when I get home in the evenings, or even on the weekends. So much of this was written while I was at work, in meetings. Here's some examples:
> 
> This has a part of _Blue Skies_ that I cut after I changed the format and rethought the pacing of it:   
> [Messy handwriting](http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j21/kalirush/pagemessy_zpsad7adf23.png)
> 
> If I was in a meeting where someone could see my notebook, and I didn't want them to know I was writing fanfiction while people were talking, then I wrote in the Greek alphabet instead:  
> [Fake Greek](http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j21/kalirush/pagegreek_zpsf6c1f65d.png)
> 
> Here's what my neat handwriting looks like:  
> [Neat handwriting](http://i76.photobucket.com/albums/j21/kalirush/pagecaps_zps7982ac52.png)


End file.
